David’s Journal

Jul
18
2008

Goodbye, My Friend, And Good Luck

My beloved parakeet is finally free.

I bought Charlie from a private breeder in Riverside, the first time I moved to California, back in late 2002. He’s been my best friend ever since.

When I was feeling lonely living in a new state far from friends, he was my company. I remember one day in particular, I was laying on my make-shift bed on the floor. When I moved to California, I didn’t bring any furniture with me. I had just gotten out of a really painful relationship too. I needed to feel loved. I needed to feel touched. I needed to know someone cared and I wasn’t alone.

Charlie, suddenly, flew out of his cage and landed on my ankle, as I laid there on the floor. He sat there, just for a moment, just long enough to help me feel that someone cared, that someone loved me. I started to feel better. And he flew back to his cage.

True story.

Charlie has been my teacher all these years. He’s taught me a lot about God’s love for me, through my love for him. One year I was visiting my parents in Florida. Charlie came along. There he had an encounter with my mom’s much larger parrot — who nearly bit off his entire foot! We rushed Charlie to the vet. Luckily, the vet was still open for another half hour that day, and a bird specialist happened to be on staff. Charlie’s foot was saved, although he never regained full use of it. In the picture above, you can see him with his little birdie cast while his foot was healing.

Although Charlie was now crippled or handicapped by definition, you wouldn’t guess he knew it by the way he acted. He never let it hold him back. He never seemed sad or depressed. Never discouraged that he lost the use of his foot. Birds can survive just fine with only one foot. Their wings are what’s really important. Charlie never acted any different having lost his foot. He remained a happy, joyful, active, often-singing bird as always and ever since.

Charlie was quick to forgive, too. If I was in a bad mood, or if he bit me, or pooped on me, or anything I didn’t like … I might swat at him or scold him … but he was persistent, and always came back, determined to keep doing whatever it was that was annoying me. He often distracted me when I was trying to write or play on the computer. He’d sit on my hand as I was typing. He’d bite my fingers because they were moving too much. But when I shooed him back to his cage, he’d always fly right back. And even though sometimes I might get angry and yell at him, he never took it personally. Every day, every minute, he gave me a clean slate and a fresh start. He taught me about unconditional love for me — and he taught me that when you unconditionally love another, sometimes they really want to do things that annoy you, but you have to let them be them as well. :)

When I bought Snowy, another parakeet, he was certainly happy. As his owner and caretaker, I felt bad leaving him home alone while I was at work all day. Birds are very social creatures. And quite frankly, I felt at least one of us needed a chance to get laid.

When I brought Snowy home, I told Charlie to welcome her into the family and take good care of her. He did exactly that. And in time, they bonded. And eventually, they finally mated. One time on a girlfriend’s head of all places! We got a good laugh out of it.

But Snowy eventually got sick and died.

Charlie was never quite the same after that. He was still his cheerful self… after a week or so… but he became a lot more clingy to me. He’d chase me into the bathroom or kitchen — wherever I was headed. He wouldn’t want me to leave for work. He always felt better when I was around.

But today, he finally let me go.

I was on my way out the door, to go change my laundry. He flew out, following me outside — the first time he’s ever been outdoors. He sat on my shoulder, but then quickly flew to my head. He could taste freedom. He could smell the fresh air. He could see farther and wider than he’d ever seen before.

With another heartbeat, he flew away, out into the open sky.

“Charlie! Charlie!” I called for him.

He flew out high. Higher than he’s ever flown before. He circled high up above the parking lot, did a couple laps, chirping so very happily.

“Charlie!”

He flew higher and expanded his circle.

“Charlie, Charlie!”

He flew back towards me, swooped low, as if to say hi and bye one last time — and then launched up into the wide open sky.

“Charlie…”

And with that, he flew over the apartment building and disappeared from sight.

“… Charlie?”

I waited there, hoping he’d return. I searched the skies, searching for anything that moved. Other birds would catch my eye — but they weren’t Charlie. I waited some more. I got out and stood in the middle of the parking lot for him to see me. He was gone.

He was free.

Finally, finally free.

Part of me will always miss him, but at the same time, part of me somehow feels this is right. Birds aren’t meant to be caged. They’re meant to be free.

I said a prayer for him. I wished him luck, but more than that, I wished him happiness.

Because I love Charlie.

And when you love someone, ultimately, you just want them to be happy.

Charlie wants to be free. Charlie longs to be free. He resisted being put in his cage. Every morning he’d beg me to let him out. It’s not in their nature for birds to be locked up and closed up in small spaces just for our viewing pleasure. Charlie was born to be free. And now he is.

There’s plenty of trees and lots of other birds around. It’s unlikely he’ll find any other birds of his particular breed, unless another escaped like he did. It’s summertime in San Diego — he’ll have beautiful weather year-round. Lots of water and plants nearby too. Ultimate freedom. Plenty of — no, unlimited — space to explore and travel and go wherever the wind and his wings dare to take him.

Charlie was like my own child. I loved him unconditionally. I fed him, took care of him, said “I love you” to him every day, often more than once a day. Sometimes he’d chase me into the bathroom in the mornings and take a shower with me. He loved that. If you listen carefully, you might catch him chirping in the background of some of my podcasts, too.

But there comes a time in every child’s life when the parent or caretaker must set them free. To keep him locked up would be selfish. I don’t know how long he’ll last out there. Maybe a day, maybe many, many years to a natural old age. But even just one day of total freedom and total happiness — far better than a hundred days locked up and denied the freedom to express and be who you truly are.

Charlie looked so happy flying so high, in such wide open space. It was a joy he had never known. Now, it’s his home. He is free. And I will miss him.

I love you, Charlie. I always have, I always will.

I left his cage outside on the patio, in case he finds his way back sometime today or tonight. I’m not expecting it. He’s probably miles and miles away now. The sun on his back. The breeze carrying him — the breeze, the wind beneath his wings — something he’s never ever felt before!

Goodbye, my friend, and good luck. Thank you for being a part of my life as long as you had been. You were a gift to me. A treasure of my own. You taught me many things about myself, about God, about unconditional love, about life. You kept me company when I was lonely. You added joyful singing to my world.

Thank you, Charlie, for being a part of my life. For the remainder of yours, I wish you luck, happiness, friends, and total freedom.